His pleasure
was great, for he had succeeded in stinging the impenetrable.
"You really ought to consider before you utter such an awful
threat! I will go myself a thousand times rather!--But will you
not feel the want of pocket-money when you come to pay a rough
cabman? The check I gave you yesterday will not last you long."
"The money is my own, Mr. Redmain."
"But you have not yet opened a banking-account in your own name."
"I suppose you have a meaning, Mr. Redmain; but I am not in the
habit of using cabs."
"Then you had better get into the habit; for I swear to you,
madam, if you don't fetch that girl home within the week, I will,
next Monday, discharge your coachman, and send every horse in the
stable to Tattersall's! Good morning."
She had no doubt he would do as he said; she knew Mr. Redmain
would just enjoy selling her horses. But she could not at once
give in. I say "_could_ not," because hers was the weak will
that can hardly bring itself to do what it knows it must, and is
continually mistaken for the strong will that defies and endures.
She had a week to think about it, and she would see!
During the interval, he took care not once to refer to his
threat, for that would but weaken the impression of it, he knew.
On the Sunday, after service, she knocked at his door, and, being
admitted, bade him good morning, but with no very gracious air--
as, indeed, he would have been the last to expect.
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